


Christmas Cheer

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Dean Just Wants A Christmas, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:12:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dean decides this year, they are having a Christmas.  And that means Cas gets to participate in a full on Christmas dinner, since Dean’s come up with a way to temporarily suppress Cas’s Grace.No molecules this time.Unfortunately, things don’t quite go to plan.





	Christmas Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read, and a one shot, so sorry in advance for any errors.

“It’ll be better than molecules,” Dean insists, when Cas stares dubiously at the blue concoction Dean’s just set in front of him. “C’mon, Cas. You said you wanted to have a real Christmas with us, right? So, bottoms up.”

He can’t deny his heart sinks a little when Cas picks up the glass only to examine the contents closely. Yeah, Cas had said that, but Dean thinks this isn’t what the angel had in mind. It’s what Dean does, though, and he’s spent days toying with different spells and ingredients until he was sure he had the elixir right.

All that’s between him and the Christmas he wants them to have is Cas trusting him enough to drink.

And maybe he thinks that a little loudly, or his desperation shows on his face, because Cas is no longer staring at the drink.

He’s staring at Dean, and then he swallows the potion down in one deep gulp.

Dean watches him, cautiously. He’d never give Cas anything that would harm him, but all the same…

Cas lets out an enormous burp, and covers his mouth while looking thoroughly ashamed of himself.

When Dean laughs, it’s not at the angel. It’s just that he’s relieved and happy, and feeling so damn lucky to have this angel as his family.

“Okay, then,” he chuckles. “Let’s get this party started!”

++

Christmas wasn’t something Winchesters got to celebrate. Dean remembered a couple, before that night their lives changed forever, but after that….

He did what he could each year, for Sam, but most often the day went unremarked upon, because even Sam eventually learned not to ask their dad about Santa or presents.

Anything Dean did manage to obtain for him was passed over when John wasn’t there (which was increasingly more often than not) or at night while he was sleeping, and the brothers were hidden beneath threadbare blankets in the dark whispering stories to each other about what other families might be doing in their homes.

And even when they were grown men, neither of them had bothered too much. Any gifts, such as there were, were typically cheap and last minute, because they were always hunting or driving, and there had never been a surplus of cash.

Only now that they had a permanent home, could Dean actually turn his thoughts to a proper Christmas for his family. Even though they’d stayed in the bunker a while now, this would be the first festive season where the world wasn’t about to end, or one or more of them was missing, hurt or possessed.

Everybody was okay, and so Dean had started to plan.

++

Sam’s up first that morning, comes stumbling into the kitchen in search of coffee and his brother (Dean wasn’t hurt to think it was probably in that order: an un-caffeinated moose was a danger to all).

He hugs Dean clumsily from behind and then staggers towards the coffee machine. Only once he’s had his first cup, making sounds that Dean doesn’t think suitable for mixed company (so was grateful nobody else appeared to be up yet) does Sam notice the state of their kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he manages. “Uh, you know there’s only going to be four of us for dinner, right? And only three of us are eating?”

Dean grins as he looks up from the pie he’s finishing off before shoving it in the second oven. 

“Count again, Sammy. It’s four. Cas will be joining us in this Christmas banquet.”

And it is a banquet; Dean has to admit he’d probably pushed the boat out a little far, but he’s hooked on this idea now and Cas being able to fully participate has just encouraged him.

He already has a huge turkey in the oven. He’s made three different pies, and there arefour different types of ice cream in the freezer.

There’ll be home made soup for the first course, and just in case Cas wants to try a traditional dessert, there’s also a Christmas pud (bought, not made - Dean hadn’t thought that far ahead) Dean’s sure the angel will love.

He had also grabbed a Christmas ham, and it’ll go in maybe an hour before lunch, slowing roasting in the over. Because it had then occurred to Dean that Cas might decide he doesn’t like turkey, in which case the ham would be a good fall back.

Though Dean’s pretty sure Cas will want to try everything.

And he only then realises he’s babbled all of that to Sam who’s looking at him like he really fears his brother’s suffered some kind of curse overnight.

“Dean,” Sam says, slowly, fearfully, as if he’s afraid he’s about to hurt his brother. “Cas won’t actually be able to taste any of this. You know that, right?”

Dean wipes his hands on his apron, and beckons Sam to follow him. He creeps along the passage to the dormitory, passing Jack’s room first (the nephilim had turned in just before midnight, only once Cas had persuaded him to, backing up the Winchesters’ warning that Santa didn’t come if anybody was up) and unsurprised to hear snoring.

But then they’re at Cas’s room, and Dean carefully, ignoring Sam’s protest, nudges open the door.

Cas is out like a light, sprawled messily over the bed, tangled in the blankets. He’d changed into some sleep wear he’d borrowed from Dean, and he looks good in it.

Dean can’t deny the wave of possessiveness that moves through him seeing Cas in his clothes.

But Sam… Of course, Sam doesn’t know what’s going on and he starts forward, concerned.

Dean quickly pulls the door to, and pushes his brother back. “Sam, Sam, he’s fine, he’s just sleeping.”

“He doesn’t sleep!”

Dean feels the first cracks showing in his perfect day; this is maybe something he should have spoken to Sam about first. “Uh, he does today.”

++

Sam spends most of the meal not actually speaking to Dean. You know, he talks but it’s only to ask for some gravy or a few more sprouts. Jack and Cas hold up the conversation, and they aren’t idiots; they know something’s wrong, and Dean isn’t sure who he’s angrier at: himself for wanting this stupid day so bad, or Sam for insisting on the big fucking picture.

But Cas…. Cas makes it worthwhile.

Because he does try everything. His appetite is insatiable and Dean’s pretty _sure_ he’s not faking it; he seems to love everything he tries, and that makes up for Sam’s moodiness (and for him watching Cas like a hawk the whole time; Sam doesn’t seem mad at the angel at least).

It makes up for a whole lot of things.

But nothing ever really goes smoothly for them, and maybe after the second bite of Christmas Pudding, Cas suddenly puts down his spoon and pushes his chair back, an uneasy look on his face.

Dean feels his good mood slipping away. “Cas?”

Sam says the angel’s name at the same time, and Jack is on his feet. “Are you alright?”

“I think...No….”. Cas shoots onto his feet and then he bolts into the corridor, one hand clasped over his mouth.

_Shit_. The three of them rush after him, but Dean has a feeling he knows where Cas is headed, and sure enough they find him on his knees over the toilet, puking violently into the bowl.

Dean looks guiltily at Sam, but he sees only sympathy instead of accusation. “Okay, why don’t you two clean up the kitchen,” he suggests. “I got this.”

Jack takes some consideration, unwilling to leave his dad while he’s sick, but Sam is persuasive, and finally Dean can close over the door and come to Cas’s side.

He can only rub Cas’s back as he throws up everything he’s eaten, and think that he probably should have suggested Cas slow down a little.

But it was good to see Cas enjoying himself, and if Dean’s going to be honest (and he is) it made him feel good. He got the Christmas Day he was looking for and that maybe held him back from making sure Cas didn’t overindulge.

And now Cas is paying for it.

Finally, Cas sits back on his heels, panting and pale.

“That was...unpleasant,” he says.

Dean pats his shoulder in sympathy. “Yeah, it’s not meant to be fun. I’m sorry, Cas. Should have got you to take it a little easier back there.”

Despite looking like he could pass out, Cas finds a smile for him. “It was a good meal, Dean. I’m grateful for the effort you put in. I enjoyed it. And I’m not sorry I took the potion.”

Yeah, except there isn’t an anti-potion. It’ll wear over in a couple more hours, but until then, Cas is stuck like this, and Dean could kick himself.

He’s about to suggest putting Cas to bed, and giving him something to settle his stomach, when Cas swallows uneasily, his cheeks bulge, and then he’s back over the toilet and retching unpleasantly.

Sighing, Dean grabs a washcloth from the basin, soaks it, and rests it across the back of Sam’s neck.

++

Sam comes to stand in the doorway a little later on. Cas is sleeping, soundly, the medicine Dean gave him having settled both the stomach and the angel in possession of it, and Dean’s sitting in the chair watching him.

He gets up when he realises Sam is standing there, and comes to join him.

“So, I guess I should have thought this one through, huh.”

Sam elbows him. “Hey. I’m not gonna criticise you for wanting to have a Christmas, Dean. For wanting Cas to have a Christmas. For all of us. Anyway, you’re taking care of him, and that’s what matters. If you want, I’ll take a spell.”

Dean bites down on a yawn, the energy spent on getting everything ready (and the stress of the potion, of fighting with Sam) is catching up on him now. But he can put off sleep a little longer.

“Nah, we’re good.” He sits back down, props his feet up on the bed.

Sam nods, satisfied, and turns to go. Then, at the last moment, he turns back.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.” And then, lower, he says, “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Dean grins at his brother and then turns around to watch over his angel once more.


End file.
